on 2005-09-04 @ 6:50 p.m.
I feel like my earlobes. Wanting to be released, but once done so, I bleed. And I just put myself right back into that comfortable niche between a rock and a fireplace. Or, a post and the clasp onto the post.
I hate the weather. It's always perfect and this constant reminder that my life doesn't deserve this. Any of this. Whether it be the hot wind from the south (is that the birthplace of the hot wind?) sweeping across the trees or the chilly wind sweeping me off my feet, whether it be a cloudless day with a sky so blue it looks like the sea or a melancholy day with an infinite number of large, puffy clouds worthy of the name... my life is never fit for it. I lack romance, I lack substance. My sentences are no longer grammatically correct, but I don't care because I'm sick of this ordinary town where nothing ever happens and it sickens me that I don't really want to get out but OH I DO.
OH GOD I DO.
?last |
next ?